


Rubbed Raw

by skillcheck



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Bloodplay, Gen, M/M, Multi, Rope Bondage, build-up, maybe angst??? idk theres a lot going on, mentions of bill & ace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-17 06:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13652883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skillcheck/pseuds/skillcheck
Summary: Jake tries to show Quentin the beauty of bondage before things go awry.





	1. Whims

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really much of a writer and this is my first fic to see if things get snowballin but who knows!  
> Don't know when I'll continue/have the time to since i usually just draw instead and what not but aaahhh...y'know  
> I thought i also might as well share what i have lol!!!  
> If i do work on it again I'll probably try to edit everything correctly

Jake thought it would have been fun.

To begin with, he wasn’t one to shy away from new things, especially new experiences after living the same one over and over. Inevitably it was impossible for the other survivors to also not screw around every chance they got. Be it with messing or bullying the killer using the very few powers they had, or with each other. Their attacks were indiscriminate, and it wasn’t to be taken personally. In the end, it was all to make the entity “displeased” at the performance.

  
So with that in tow, maybe the entity just had enough and threw him headfirst in a trial while he was in the midst of fooling around. Was it well deserved? Absolutely not! He was always the victim, of course maybe his attitude hadn’t been the best lately in the past trials but he still ultimately wanted to escape. So what if he maybe coaxed them into agreeing, he should at least have the chance to get into position- Is what he thought, half-naked, and worse of all totally restrained and blinded. He couldn’t even make a grunt of discomfort as he was dropped right out in the open on top of the ledge of a rock. Bold points and all.

The worst part of it was that his personal oppressor didn’t pop in with him, even if he had no way of knowing since all his limbs were bound so he couldn’t move and he was visually impaired by his blindfold. It was his gut feeling that a very certain insomniac was looking around dumbfounded or either panicking since, “this doesn’t seem like a great idea, or, it’s been a while since we’ve done a trial Jake we should save this for next time.” And low and behold, maybe the bastard was right. As he continued to villainize the poorly accused, he had to admit Quentin always had a second sense for those kind of things.

And now that we’re back to the current situation, as he laid there gagged for better or for worse, the chilled wind brushing against his burning exposed skin from the futile attempts of struggling; he resorted to just propping himself up on his side, curled up pretending that he was one with the stubby grass. Even in his exposed state, the events were going great so far; the ground seemed to mold to his shape in what, maybe, 10 minutes of absolute boredom. Was the entity giving him this moment of silence to reevaluate his impulses?

Well, fuck that.

Was what he’d like to think before hearing the familiar rapid pangs of his heart, and his hair standing to an end.

Two thoughts were battling in his mind, to try to stay totally still and unlock his inner stealth in the plain open, or frantically shake around like hell as if some miracle all the double knots around him would loosen and he could make a mad break for it. Panic was starting to well up in his chest from his lack of senses, he felt his chest heaved as he tried to make any sort of audible noise that he was trapped to no avail. Could someone please just get him already? He wouldn’t even mind being sacrificed just so he could get back to the campfire, but he would much rather have the better odds. He could only hope to pray that the killer was already in chase with someone else or that another survivor was nearby to free him, of course after giving him the silent disapproval headshake.

The beating stopped, and as he felt a pair of hands after the sounds of chase disappeared, he would have breathed a sigh of relief if said hands weren’t touching all the wrong spots. If he was an oblivious idiot, he would be cursing at his supposed hero that those weren’t the fucking knots. Unfortunately, the reality of the situation was that he made himself entirely powerless and was subject to any living whim that were willing to interact with his condition. He would have to rely on the swift touches to discern the structure of his newest captor’s hands. He could make out that their hand was quite large, very rough and calloused, the way they gripped the soft parts of his flesh. So it was someone who does a lot of hands on action, either Bill or David. He immediately crossed out Bill though, since the old-timer would free him in a snap. It was definitely David fucking with him, and there was going to be hell to pay. There’s a time and place for everything, damn if he wasn’t in the position to say it.

Jake’s patience couldn’t hold any longer, it was starting to wear thin at the invasive way they kept handling him. Trying to grope his chest and flipping him around willy-nilly for a better angle on his ass, just to look and touch. It was annoying, annoying how it felt so good that he began to become hyper sensitive as more time passed on. He had to compliment Quentin’s handiwork though, because he could sense the rope annoying his captor since it held him close together like an armadillo; protectively blocking his manhood. The way it was originally supposed to be set up was that Jake was tied up erotically, putting him in a position of foreplay and galore. But with Quentin’s shaky hands and directional lost, he just ended up tying him to look like a caught civilian in a bank robbery, with the extra double ropes around his legs and hands for no tasteful reason at all.

Ah, just as he was getting lost in his thoughts about Quentin’s lack of culture, he was shaken out of it with a heavy grunt. It seems they’ve given up, finally that was enough toying around. However he never heard David’s voice reach that low, it was new. And it would have been helpful if he had taken his blindfold and gag off before starting with the lower part of his body, regrettably not untying his hands as well.

But when he felt the cold sting of a knife’s blade pressed against his inner thigh the exact moment his legs split apart; it dawned on him that this wasn’t any kind of savior at all.

As his mind began to start racing once more, the only comforting memory he recalled was his first arrival, in the discovery that he was a hard M.


	2. Not that Deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> major apologies bc it feels pretty short and also i get pretty lost in my writing/dozing off and forgetting what i was doing, also the (Q) (J) is for the dominant perspective since im like wtf where am i. ok enough rambling...please enjoy...

“Jake, where did you even get this?” No matter how shaky his voice carried out, the sternness was still there.

He furrowed his brows, giving an incredulous stare that Jake would swear he was going to start chastising him to clean up his non-existent room.

“It’s not even that far-fetched, instead you should be asking why I wouldn’t have it. Rope is a man’s second best friend, y’know?”

(Q)

Quentin could feel the dramatic roll of Jake’s eyes, it was so overly the top that he knew the other was at their wit’s end. Still, the disrespect made Quentin wonder what possessed him to continue to entertain the drama queen. It was enough that he might start pretending he won’t go along with it, he wouldn’t put it past Jake to beg in the end. When it came to breaking, he already knew the results.

But he wasn’t like that, and Jake knew he wasn’t like that. It almost made him wish he wasn’t so nice, maybe be selfish for a little while. But it was impossible, because he was /so/ dependent on Jake, he couldn’t yet explain his desire to satisfy Jake’s needs and wants. Was it because they were so alike in that they were loners? But there was a difference in their loneliness, /Jake/ wanted to be alone, Quentin didn’t. So was there this weird idolization he wasn’t even aware about? When he approached him first even though he was shaking like a Chihuahua, ignoring the bags under his eyes that already came with him before going into his first trial. Was it so obvious that he was so easy, so easy to latch on to whoever comes close on a personal level? The dynamic spitfire that was always in Jake, his charisma and range of expressions that remained so beautiful compared to his own static, reclusive, antsy personality that more often than not made people around him nervous too.  He was stuck in this never-ending pitfall of thinking too hard, too deep that he knew Jake’s request was right about this.

They really need to take the edge off, one way or another.

The fear was still burning in his chest though, like hot coals. The same one that comes when he anticipates something bad is going to happen, the signs are all there. In fact, the only reason they’re going to do this was because of said signs. They haven’t been summoned in a trial for a suspiciously long amount of time, it was starting to get into their heads. They knew they weren’t exactly free, since all they did was roam around the campfire with no exact way out, but time not spent hearing the comforting humming of the generators and looking for escape made them grow restless. Pent up energy that had to be exerted. He just doesn’t know if this was an ethical way of doing so. The hardened texture of the rope was sturdy for sure, true to its actual real purposes, but just made Quentin scared at the future misuse in his hands. Not to mention a blindfold, some other objects he wouldn’t name out loud, laying shamefully near his feet.

“C’mon.”

Oh, here it goes again. It always starts like this.

“I don’t know.”

A weak refusal, waiting to be pushed over. Typical.

“It’ll be easy, I’ll lead you. Just like always.”

It was being lulled by the singing of a siren, the snake-like way Jake would hook his thumb around the hem of his pants before finally pulling it off to reveal his black undergarments. He doesn’t know why he always takes his pants off first, probably because it was the easiest to discard since he usually wears a ridiculous amount of layered jackets and shirts. He’d even tease the other for wearing so much clothes it could prove to be a bullet-vest, if he wasn’t so tranced by his toned muscular legs that looked so soft at the same time. He was built but also slender, the best of both worlds that made Quentin feel a little insignificant about himself. Drops of self-hate still muddled their way in through Quentin’s mind, only to be wiped away by a wake-up kiss. Jake pulled away when he was just about to go back for seconds, giving a dazed quizzical look at the sudden rejection.

“You can’t tell me you already forgot what’s in your hands.”

He scoffed, holding in his laughter before erupting out of him. It was meant to mock, so why did it still sound so nice to hear? As if the murder weapons were changed to over-fluffed pillows.

(J)

Maybe it was the countless trials, the same catch-kill-death routine, the endless revives against his will that made Jake more cocky and reckless with his body and actions, but he just wanted to feel more alive on his own terms. It might have made him more of an asshole, but no one’s going to hold him down. Yet, he wasn’t that far gone to not see the negative effect he had on the sensitive soul.

“Quentin.” He tried again, in a more comforting voice, “Quentin, I trust you. You’re the only one I want to try it with.” Softly, as he glided both hands over the other, to guide them to his own cheek so he could show his {semi-}earnest remorse in black hues. And of course, it’d be a really big turn-off if he fucked things up before they even got started. He threw in one of his “I’m sorry” smiles just for extra measure in case the other wanted to sulk away.

(Q)

“Yeah. Yeah I know.” Trying not to fumble over his words, fidgeting with the twine that started to rest comfortably in his other hand.

He wanted to start, but he didn’t know where. All he could do was look on completely lost, waiting for any kind of hint in those eyes before giving up and trying to steal another touch.

“Jake, Jake”, finishing with a gentle almost desperate echo of his name, making a second attempt to close in on the distance between them again. “Let’s just forget about it.” He wanted to cup his face, to bring him into a deep kiss that could make them forget for a little while.

(J)

The pleas continued to be ignored with the kiss of his usual cocky smile. He’d let Quentin press his lips against the nape of his neck, before dragging slow kisses to his collarbone. It was enjoyable, sensual even, but not planned. And the way that he would hold him, looking at him was closest that to a lover – not that he had any to begin with to compare. Or maybe he would act that way with anybody that’d let him, Jake wouldn’t really care.

And they knew, that this wasn’t love. It wasn’t real love between them, not to Jake he concluded. It could never happen in such a forsaken place, where the entity already had his soul. So the tender, time-taking way he took made guilt start blooming in his heart. He would have given up, if he wasn’t stubborn to the core, all it did was take some of the fire out of him, yielding a stale sigh.

“Just start with my hands.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading and support haha <3 aaah it is pretty messy so far and if i get to finish i'd like to plan re-editing it all in order/more planned structured but i know im gonna be pretty busy in the following days so rip  
> and it'd be fked up of me just to keep the extra writing i had without posting it or maybe even not post it at all loool


	3. Too Far pt.1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short sorry, couldn't finish in time but i'll add in the rest nxt chapter hopefully when i get back or something  
> wanted to show that im not really dead yet btw

Stop. _Stop._

 

Muffled pleas heard by deaf ears.

 

Jake felt the bottom fat of his left thigh gently squeezed by rough fingers, sliding around and cautiously edging the rim of his undergarments before deciding not to. It continued its trail upwards his stomach line, the hypnotizing touch sending chills down his spine in waves. It was when it started to tread into actual dangerous territory that made him hold his breath, he was sure the assaulting hands could feel him tense up when they dragged itself more firmly around his collarbone –almost passing the line of discomfort. He knew that showing his fear only encouraged the sadistic personality to express itself in an action of pressing their nails in his neck. The sensation was similar to blunt needles trying to poke their way through the walls of his throat, only releasing their pressure when his body convulsed into pained coughs. As if an act of apology, they made their way towards his cheek, a thumb caressing the skin under his blindfolded eye.

 

The steel blade was still placed firmly on his other thigh, gratefully laying on its flat side. Normally Jake could keep his cool when in stressful situations, but when he was held between gentle touches and threats of mutilation it caused him to have a rollercoaster of sensory overload. He was held hostage in this still predicament, only the sounds of his own breathing and the subsequent rings of completed generators till he broke from pressure of his foreboding future. And with the final blare of sirens from the exit gates, he feared of being left behind. He shuddered as his mind focused back to the present from the sensation of fingers ghosting over his covered lips. Only a thin barrier separated the sensual touch till it was instantaneously ripped away from his mouth, releasing a surprised gasp. He didn’t know what the killer was playing at, and he never wanted to.

 

A rising urgency shot up his chest, spreading wildfire as he burned up inside. He started thrashing his body side to side frantically, like a fish out of water. He was scared, confused, lost in this unfamiliar motion that was playing out before him. Jake had forgotten about the knife that was held near his flesh, the blade digging repeatedly into breaking skin the more he struggled; stopping completely when it resolved to be the worst case of action in the victim’s mind. He had spilled his own blood before the other could even attempt, submissively throwing his head to the side in shame. Even if he couldn’t see his oppressor, he couldn’t bear to be looked down on the pathetic state he was in.

 

“Please..,” He begged, quietly. The trailing of his words laced with confusion and anxiousness. “I don’t…, “ he paused, trying to choose his final words carefully, “I don’t…understand.”

 

Talking felt pointless, he had never heard Myers ever manage to make sounds that were discernible enough to be words; only annoyed grunts and groans. The pain of his aching legs caught up with him, hissing between his teeth as the other moved their hand back to his bleeding legs. He could feel the liquid trailing down or being smeared around his skin in circular motions. It stung when fingers curiously danced over the fresh cuts, until a pleasurable jolt from the sudden wetness of a tongue slithered over his injury. There was no time to hold in the loud moan, he couldn’t even cover his mouth because of his bounds.

 

“Wh-What the fuck!” He said in an almost-shout, trying to level his voice so he wouldn’t be heard by other remaining survivors. He didn’t know whether he was grossed out or pleasantly surprised, but this isn’t the kind of development he wanted.

 

“Stop.” An exhausted mutter, the killer still continuing their strange antics. “ _Stop._ ” He firmly repeated from feeling the texture of a million tiny wet bumps, a relieved sigh as they stopped midway. It was a little odd he thought, that his words were given some consideration. Maybe he could try talking the killer in getting him out, hopefully it didn’t hurt to try. “My-” He mumbled albeit nervously, “My blindfold, can you take it off?”


End file.
